Opaque
by Lymphae
Summary: Doctor is a psychologist- to be exact, a psychologist for the most sadistic, terrifying villains of all time. But he's always succeeded with his patients "recovery", so when the newest one, Gaara, arrives, he gets the surprise of his life. GaaMatsu!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto. But the plot belongs to me. So HA! :D**

* * *

Doctor was sipping his coffee calmly, though his nerves were obviously frazzled. Of course, he was an expert at psychology and the most practiced therapist you could find in Konohagakure, but _still. _And besides, his field of expertise was focused on the twisted, dark minds of psychopaths.

No one, he was sure, had any idea of how stressful it was.

Doctor took another deep gulp of the steaming hot liquid, cringing as it burned his throat. Of _course_ Lady Tsunade would choose _him _to deal with this criminal of hers. Of _course _she would just place the burden this murderous, blood-thirsty, _dangerous _beast on _his _shoulders.

Of _course _she would.

But Doctor could not refuse. No, he absolutely could not, even though the single fact that he had a wife and beautiful, innocent, naive little granddaughter, newly sixteen, to take care of. Why?

Because Doctor was _devoted _to his job. That, and his manly pride refused to allow him to back down from a challenge.

And Subaku No Gaara was more than a challenge.

Yes, he was definitely much, much more than a challenge.

The psychopath- no, no. He shouldn't refer to Gaara as a psychopath. That would be rude, for one thing, and would possibly end up in several casualities, for another. After all, who knew how sensitive the psycho-patient, really was?

Doctor flipped through his notes for the fifty-seventh time. He had been reading, re-reading, and then reading them again for the past seven days, trying to commit the large, 369 page packet to memory. He needed to memorize everything that was known about this patient, he needed to try to figure out at least a bit of this man's personality before he actually dealt with him.

You see, Doctor was such and expert in his specific field that he was given the _darkest_, most _sadistic_, most _twisted_ and _perversed_ criminals the world had.

He had even dealt with the famed Orochimaru.

_That _had not ended well. For several reasons.

Orochimaru was always behind a heavily guarded cage for one thing. It always unnerved the Doctor to see the ANBU standing around that steel cage, armed with huge blades and other complicated devices, stiff and silent. They were like machines. Puppets. Anyways, this cage thing had affected the treatment significantly, since Doctor always stressed his "open area" theory (That a patient would only be able to relax and talk to him in a free, open enviroment.).

Then there was also the fact that he had escaped the dungeons five days after they had captured him and began the treatment.

Doctor had to admit, he had been relieved. Very relieved. Because Orochimaru was not a man that could be relaxed and talked to.

He was a true sadist; a real, breathing, living version of Hell.

Anyhoo, that was enough about Orochimaru. Doctor had to remain focused on the present.

He had to remain focused on this Subaku no Gaara.

But this idiot packet of info did not have anything even _vaguely _useful in all 369 pages of it! Just blabbering nonsense about his powers, his appearance, etcetra, etcetra.  
Doctor slammed it down on his desk with a loud _"BANG!",_ irritation clearly written all over his face.

He would have to start from scratch on this one.

And for some reason, this small fact, this seemingly insignificant little obstacle sent chills running down his spine...

* * *

Matsuri was sitting on her bed, swinging her legs nonchalantly while humming a tune under her breath. Long strands of coffee colored hair framed her face, having slipped out of a messy bun that rested in the crook of her neck. She had ridiculously long lashes, thick and fluttery, like butterfly wings, and large amber colored eyes that forever contained a curious look, as if everything was a mystery that she had to solve. Her skin was slightly peach-colored, a product of spending time out in the sun in Suna, when she was visiting other relatives, though it was still as soft as a newborn's.

A loud _"BANG!"_ echoed throughout the household, momentarily startling her. She fell off the bed, tumbled forward, then hit the wall, bouncing off of it with a pained, "Oomph!"  
Matsuri scowled and sat up, brushing herself off. Oto-san had a patient coming in from god-knew-where, and he was supposedly another famed and feared_ lunatic_.

She was getting so sick of all of these creeps.

And they really **WERE** scary. It was no wonder Oto-san wore a mask when he conversed with them. Well, of course, it was regular protocol and all, so that if the "patient" escaped from their jail cell, they wouldn't come back later and kill thier therapist and/or family.

But Oto-san was special.

He wore a mask, and Matsuri knew this for a fact, because he was worried that his facial expressions would be misinterpreted by the patients. He was totally fine with bringing them into his own home and stuff, though. Matsuri felt a wave of loathing for his career.  
How could he stand having to work with those freaks of nature, those beastly _monsters_ that murdered just for the "pure fun" of it?

Honestly, if she had been in charge of this whole operation, she would have them all _boiled_ in _oil _and put to death in the most _painful_ ways possible.

The stupid sociopaths _deserved_ it.

Matsuri lifted herself up off the floor, letting out a sigh of exasperation. She had been living her all of her life, and even when she was younger, her Oto-san had been doing this scary job of his. She should've gotten used to it...

But she couldn't. It was too unnerving, the entire idea of having a _nutcase_ sitting in your living room, talking to you about his/her _thoughts_ and _feelings_.

Matsuri shook herself, stretching out and brushing her fingers against the low-hung lamp in her room. Yes, she was short. But she prefered to be called...petite.

It was so much more attractive than "short" or "shrimpy."

She lay back on her bed, tucking her hands behind her, and stared up at the intricately painted ceiling of her bedroom.

Life was_ so_ complicated.

* * *

**Otay, peezles~! This is my VERY FIRST fanfic. So please be nice 3: **

**CURRENTLY LISTENING TO:**

**Fiqrana ~ Blue  
Blue ~ Blue**

**Yeah, both movies are hindi, so are the songs. BUT THEY'RE REALLY GOOD. Just look 'em up on UTUBE! XP**

**~Lymphae~**


	2. Update!

Hi guys, anyone who stumbles upon this story, actually.

I've moved on ^o^b I'm writing by myself now, and I don't feel comfortable with using other people's characters. I'm sorry if anyone grew attached to the story (LOL it was only one chapter long, so I hope it wasn't too bad of a disappointment) but yeah. Toodles~!


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